


Rust

by Uniasus



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, Gen, School Shootings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He does not want to think, about how he had been so close, feet away and he could not stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rust

He drives. 

Pushed everything on his primary processor back to his tertiary one and just drives.

He does not want to think, about how he had been so close, feet away and he could not stop it.

The thought gets pushed aside like many others before it, leaving him to become numb to anything other then the stream of information his sensors and scans are sending to his primary unit. Sun - 37 degrees, wind - two miles per hour, rain - at this location in 2.31 hours, but at his current speed he would out run the storm.

He does not want to think about how appropriate rain in Tranquility is. How it would be falling, was falling, is falling still most likely from something other than the sky.

Again he pushes the thought aside.

His speed has been steadily increasing, starting out at fifty and now slowly slowly reaching two hundred. It is a speed that has him recall squeals of terror and later shouts of joy from adrenaline filled teens. 

He drives faster to leave the thoughts behind.

He does not want to hear the voice, hear a voice who did not even have the time to scream before death.

Speed - 215 miles per hour. Received messages - twenty one. 

There would be more if the others knew what had happened, if they knew he had been right there and had not even seen it coming. They just want to know why he is so far from his charge, going so fast, driving, driving, driving.

No point in going back, there is nothing to salvage. Nothing waiting for him but the closed, broken mirrors of a soul he cherished.

He's abandoned the interstate now, traveling along a local highway to some place he does not know. His background programs picked it for him, and not wanting to think he lets them work unhampered.

His scanners pick up water, blue and shimmering and full of life. Organic life so good at being alive, colorful and bright like the flowers that littered Earth . So, so easy to crush too. To rip out of the ground, to cut, to blast away.

Push it way, push it away, do not think.

There are flashes behind him, so rhythmic they almost sooth him until he realizes they are blue -like the jeans he always wore- and red -like his favorite candy-. He did not realize he had entered a city limit, think that his speed, now simply 100 due to obstacles, would draw the police.

He did not want to think about those sirens' red and white counterpart; how they came to the school loud and blaring and left without so much of a flicker. How did the cop get so close to him? He cannot remember. 

( - “Straight to the heart from close range. Kid never had chance,” the EMT shook his head while loading the stretcher. - ) 

The thoughts and memory are forced aside and instinct takes over, dodge here, hide here, until the cop is gone and so is the city so he just continues to drive and drive because there is nothing else to do. He is useless, powerless. He wants to be an organic flower too so he can have the crushing feeling inside finally end things. But no, he's metal, Cybertronian, and meant to live for a long, long time to come with his pumps distributing a vile poison throughout his system that eats and eats, but he cannot rust. Cannot die. Cannot live. Can only slowly, slowly decay inside.

Trees, grass, birds. All alive and living blur by his sensors. There should be another among their ranks, one full of smiles and the awkwardness that comes from trying to succeed when you do not know how but try with all your might. 

He passes by another poison, a family all piled in a tiny station wagon traveling. Family brings comfort and eases the pain. It is also motivation for revenge and the reason to pull a trigger. It is a reason to kill that has claimed so many.

( - “Take that Witwicky! You destroy my dad, I destroy you!” A teen struggled against his handcuffs, while being pushed into a cop car. - )

His engine screams in high-pitched pain as he passes the family, now up to 230, and veers off the road, leaving the memory stranded on asphalt and trapped by white and yellow lines. It is a weak cage, he knows, but by the time it breaks from its frame his running will have taken him far away. 

He has lost before, many times, but none have effected him so deeply, so completely that he registers the rocks in his undercarriage, the blown tire and riding on his rims, and the other beatings Mother Earth was giving him for not protecting one of her own, but he does not feel the pain. A tin man made of metal and not flesh, who cannot return to what he used to be, who is instead a mixture of what others used to be.

Humans can return to the earth, Cybertronians are given to those still living. 

He cannot imagine leaving this planet, wanting to become a part of it just as those he has come to love in such a short time will. But he cannot rust, die at Mother Nature's hands no matter what she throws at him. And if he leaves himself open on a battlefield and falls, when the rest of his race leaves so he would too. 

He does not want to think, so he had driven, pushed programs back and let those run unchecked slowly come to the forefront of his mind unchallenged by the more logical hardwire programming of his primary and secondary processors. And those little paid attention programs had come to a solution, had activated his stealth systems, hidden his signature, everything that made him an undetectable scout to hide from the enemy now made sure he is hidden from everyone else too. 

He does not want to think, so he prepares himself to go into a forced stasis and stay there until no longer would there be an Earth he could belong to. 240, 250, air. 

The cliff is behind him, the horizon in front, the sky above and the organic filled sea below. He falls, watches his future tenets get closer, the end near. The water will not damage him, the salt will not harm his systems or seat. He rolls his windows down, feeling the air caresses him, accept him, and then water fills his insides and the ocean claims him as her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Hah, bet you didn't know this was a song fic ^_~ Check out Rusted in the Rain by Billy Talent. 
> 
> As for who the shooter was, it's an illegitimate child of Simmons's he doesn't have much contact with. But the mom kinda crazy stalks him and so the kid really looks up to Simmons.


End file.
